He looked shocked. Honestly, I couldn’t blame him. I was surprised myself. I usually saved my angst for the pool, but I could feel myself begin to unravel and this was not the ideal location for a full-scale meltdown. I started to apologize…in spite of the fact that I meant every word. There was no point in holding on to animosity. I’d said enough. As long as he knew I didn’t want him making star appearances at my practice, we’d be fine.
But then he opened his mouth.
“I’m trying, Gabe. I’m trying. Maybe I don’t say all the right things, but you don’t make this easy either. You barely talked to me when you were Cam’s age and—”
“You weren’t here!”
The table on the opposite end of the sidewalk turned to see the show. Fuck. I let out a ragged breath and exhaled.
“I did my best,” he snapped, holding his fork like a weapon.
“No offense, Dad, but your best sucked. And you don’t get to rewrite history here. You left us. You left me. I got a part-time parent who expected me to perform for him like a freaking monkey at the zoo. You will never know how much it killed me to not see you at my games. Twelve years old…I’d scan that deck, searching every face, hoping you were there, but you’d moved on.”
His fork clattered to the plate. “Damn it, that’s not true.”
“It is. Sure, you made more appearances when I became a better player. It was like I was rewarded with your presence. And I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what’s happening now. You’re pleased that I finally accomplished something you can brag to your golf buddies about. You want a piece of it. I get it. You have no idea how much I want to give it to you. No idea,” I choked, scraping my chair back before standing. “But it’s impossible to win when I’m always playing by your rules.”
“Gabe.”
“I don’t have anything else to say. See you in Japan, Dad.”
4
Derek
Something had definitely gone down between Gabe and his dad. I didn’t hear any fireworks, but I’d kept an eye on them through the café window, and I could practically feel Gabe’s tension rolling from him in waves. Then he was gone, but his dad was still outside.
Not good. Also not something I could do anything about.
Gabe was a big boy…and I had customers to serve. Including his kid brother.
Cam brushed his hair from his forehead as he reached for another slider. “Man, these are so good.”
“Thank you.” I smiled absently and peered outside again.
“Don’t worry about him. Dad makes everyone mad.” Cam swiveled on his barstool, eyeing his dad as he took a man-sized bite. “Kind of weird since Gabe is his favorite, though.”
I crossed my arms and leaned against the bar. “His favorite?”
“Yeah, he talks about him all the time.” Cam altered his timbre before continuing, “Gabe is so smart, Gabe is a great athlete, Gabe is the fastest swimmer and the best water polo player. Did you know Gabe and his partner just opened a restaurant?”
“Oh.”
“Never stops.” He rolled his eyes and took a fistful of french fries. “My brother and I switched sports early. There’s no way to compete with Gabe, and Dad doesn’t know shit about lacrosse. Works out better for everyone.”
“Right.”
“You don’t think Gabe is really pissed, do you? I mean, Dad is just intense. Gabe must know that.”
“Yeah…maybe.” I glanced toward the entrance when a large group walked in. I had to get back to work. I patted Cam’s shoulder and smiled. “It’s getting busy, and I need to help out. Let me know if you need anything. It was good to meet you.”
“Wait. We’re supposed to be here till Saturday. Aren’t we going to see you again?” he asked, furrowing his brow.
I peered outside at the figure of the lonely man staring into space, seemingly lost in thought. I wanted to hate the guy for making Gabe miserable, but I had a feeling their situation was a bit more complicated than it appeared.
“I hope so. But I think that’s going to be up to them.”
The house was empty when I got home a few hours later, and Gabe wasn’t picking up his cell or returning messages. I wasn’t overly concerned. If I knew my man, he was working off his angst at the gym or on an extended run. I sent him a third text, then headed for the shower.
I conjured oddball recipes as I lathered up in an effort to keep myself from worrying about Gabe. Poached peach with prosciutto and English cheddar cheese sounded delicious. Add balsamic vinaigrette and—
“Hey.”
I threw the soap in the air and yelped in surprise. “Holy fuck! Jesus, Gabe.”
He chuckled lightly, bending to pick up the soap, then motioning for me to make room for him. “I just go by Gabe these days.”